


atargatis

by guybuddyfriend



Category: South Park
Genre: Again, But here it is, F/M, anyway dont piss on me im a pisces, anyway i wrote this bc im in love and i guess this is how i show it, bebe gets her ass ate like she deserves lmao, idk i was experimenting, kyle is a disgusting poet man in this??? idk wtf i was thinking, like every other time, please enjoy me playing out some kinks thru my writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guybuddyfriend/pseuds/guybuddyfriend
Summary: i love bebe and so does kyle





	atargatis

**Author's Note:**

> here it is guy

It is, unfortunately, by the high note of Chandelier that Kyle is drawn gently but relentlessly from his Sunday snooze back to the shore of the living. Cracking open his eyes, he sweeps the room before him: curtains open and blowing in the screen-passed breeze, butter yellow walls catching and reflecting the 8:38 am glow of the freshly risen sun, dust sparkling in the beams of light dancing over the hardwood floors. Kyle stretches his arms over his head and lets his eyes drift closed for a moment, basking in the body heat built up under the comforter overnight. Another ear-shattering note-not the right note but definitely _a note_ \- pierces through the room and bounces around the walls of his head, an involuntary grin pulling across his face, buried in the soft pillow.

Kyle breathes in deep, the soft scent of her synthetic fruity shampoo and fabric softener dryer sheets curling under his nose and sending tingly little vibrations through his skull and washing over him like a warm ocean breeze. Kyle wraps the corner of the sheet around his fist and brings it to his cheek, decisively letting his eyes fall shut again, waiting for the next high note of the song. Kyle is warm and quiet, his breathing is steady and his heart is full. Kyle counts his breaths, counts his heartbeats, counts the seconds that pass in silence like knots of a steady ship.

When she finally sings the final word of the song, belting the word and missing the pitch completely, Kyle’s eyes open and he sits up, the grin stretching wider and his hands running deep grooves through his hair. Kyle pitches off the bed and pads to the bathroom, opening the door and letting her voice wash over him in waves and then he’s drowning in powder and steam and soft, tinny music and perfume and sunlight and he’s dumb with love, Kyle is dying in the best way, his siren called him from the depths of slumber and now he is here-

Bebe turns to look at him, torso twisting in front of the bathroom mirror. She wiggles her bum and catches her hair in her hands, singing the chorus to whatever song it is playing now. Kyle’s eyes are full of her; the long, platinum ringlets are full and plump, spilling down her back like a waterfall and crashing into her full, plump ass, meeting full, plump thighs soft with light blonde hairs and the grooves and crests of cellulite, running down to the floor via full, plump and rounded calves; her body is dotted with fresh, blue and purpling hickeys, blossoming red and pink roses and teeth marks curving over her shoulders and he knows he has long scratches carving out his back that match the colour. Stark white scars stripe up over thighs, stomach and back, cracking into seashell flesh, a sun-bleached type of kintsugi Kyle knows the taste of and he is thirsting for it, mouth watering and eyes roaming.

Bebe drops her arms, soft blonde hairs still peeking out from between her biceps and her fat, spreading breasts like rays of sunlight shooting over the horizon. Kyle stands, empty-handed in the doorway and stares at her, breathing in deeply as she walks toward him, soft thighs rippling, soft stomach bouncing, breasts swinging, hair tossing; Kyle is completely enamoured.

Kyle sweeps her into his arms, the hair under her arms prickles the bare insides of his elbows and he drops his head, kissing her full, plump mouth softly. She untangles her arms from his own and wraps them around his waist, holding him flush against her while she smiles into his embrace. Kyle tries to run his hands through her hair just above her ears, but is met with a noise from the back of her throat and the hard plastic of her hair clasp.

He untangles his fingers from her sunlight curls and lets his rough, calloused fingers fall to her shoulders, squeezing his fingers _gently_ into the same purple-yellow finger-shaped spots that live there almost constantly; her body fits perfectly under his hands and he loves her so much- she is soft and kind and beautiful, she is thick skin and hard work as much as she is chrysanthemum petal eyelashes and sunrise cloud hair, she is the violet bruises on her torso and the amaranth lip-gloss on her lips, she is his heart pounding and his mouth tingling, he sees his life sprawling ahead of him in bright, sun-cut flower-laden creeks and white, glistening beaches and it is all with her.

His hands slide to Bebe’s jaw, to her round chin, and he feels her creamy makeup catch under his fingernails. He smiles into her mouth when he feels her eyebrows raise; she tries to pull away and catches his hands in hers but he presses forwards, allowing her to pull his hands down but refusing to let her escape him. She responds again, quickly, a smacking sound symbolising her release of his lips and she holds him at a distance, one hand on his chest, pressing, and one hand gripping his wrists. She leans back and checks her makeup in the mirror behind her.

Kyle is indulging himself, taking Bebe in like air in the lungs of a man drowning, carving over her hidden collarbones and her plump, lolling breasts, her curved rolls and round stomach, cool linen skin tinged cyclamen over the tops of her forearms, circling the peaks of her breasts, the folds and dents of her knees and flesh under the wild, golden hair sweeping from her thighs to meet over her groin. Her skin folds over itself and over itself and over itself and Kyle is mesmerized; he tugs one hand free of hers and tucks it into the creases of her sides. Her head snaps back to face him and his other hand shoots down to grab at her ass. Her teeth are freshly brushed and she tastes like toothpaste when he captures her mouth again, licking along her teeth and across her hard palate.

Bebe giggles into his mouth and lifts onto her toes, letting Kyle push her back into the counter and knocking a couple of bottles into the sink as he does so. Bebe lets him kiss around her full cheeks and up into her right ear, teeth grazing and hands roaming. She locks her legs around his ass and pulls him into her, crotch to crotch and, when she tosses her head, mouth to mouth. Kyle kisses her long and soft, and only when they lean her back a little too far and she accidentally turns on the tap does she push him away. Kyle likes the way she tastes, especially in the morning, mid-makeup routine, because she’s raw and fresh and bare, newly exfoliated and moisturized and generally content, she is his breath of fresh ocean air and he loves her for it, he loves her when she is gentle and supple, smooth and platinum in the fresh light of the morning.

He kisses her again, just a quick press of lips, when she slides down from her perch on the sink. Kyle leaves her reluctantly, stepping into the still-wet stand-up shower and tugging on the knob. The water spills over him, little shards of ice for a moment. Bebe cackles at his jump, her laugh the tinkling of bells echoing around the bathroom. He hisses through his teeth and stands firm under it, waiting for the water to heat up.

As it does, he hears Bebe turn her music back up, he barely noticed she’d turned it down. Her voice filters over the tinny sound of the speakers and the water beating down on him and Kyle’s shoulders drop. He sings with her to the songs he knows, he uses the shampoo he knows she likes, uses her conditioner because even though she says she hates it when he uses it he knows she’s lying, and he grins up into the spray.

He’s in love with her; Bebe is all sea-salt exfoliants and honey face masks, she’s floral body mist and too much highlight, she’s curly, scrunched up beach waves and little seashell crown headbands, she’s rose gold skin and platinum hair, metallic blue and green eyeshadow and sharp eyeliner and soft pink lips and small, pudgy hands gripping at his shoulders, she is the night after their wedding when the cops knocked on their door because the neighbours thought someone was being murdered, she is his embarrassed laugh and the cops realization, she is all his congratulations and all his joys, she is the sunlight bouncing off the sand and the waves washing over the shore, she is supple, tanned skin and sharp white teeth, she is his and his alone and he _loves_ her-

“Kyle, is my washcloth in there?” Kyle’s eyes snap open and sprawl along the shelves in the corner. He sees her turquoise washcloth hanging and swipes it off the metal bar.

“Here,” he calls, sliding the glass door open and handing her the damp little towel. Bebe tugs the aquamarine cloth from his fingers and even though it’s been almost four years since they were married Kyle still blushes when she gives him that smile, that secretive, curled up half-grin that she only wears when he’s around, when he’s the one she’s smiling at. Kyle retreats and rinses his hair, stupid grin plastered across his flushed face. Kyle steps out of the shower onto Bebe’s towel- he forgot to bring the bathmat up from the basement after its wash, which would explain why she’s naked if it wasn’t just something they were, often, together. Bebe slaps his ass as he reaches behind her to grab his own towel and instead of wrapping it around his body Kyle presses it around his head, murmuring a quick apology into her ear about the bathmat before rubbing vigorously at his wet hair. She offers him a hair elastic when he’s done and wrapping the now-damp towel around her nude body. He bends to kiss her cheek but she catches his mouth in her palm, brandishing the brush in her hand.

“No! You can make it up to me later, I’m busy now.” Kyle smiles and puckers his mouth, kissing her palm.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and she swipes her brush over his nose, leaving a synthetically scented stripe of miscoloured foundation across his freckles. Kyle’s heart swells and he kisses the top of her head anyway, letting her finish stroking the brush down her neck. Kyle leans against the counter beside her, bumping her with his hip gently, jostling her arm and getting himself elbowed. He rubs a hand over his scruffy chin and speaks quietly, not wanting to disturb the soft working quiet she’s got going on.

“I’m going out today, at noon. The guys want to see a movie.” Kyle watches her eyebrows raise as she clips open a little pad of some dusty, gray-brown shade.

“Oh,” she says, her voice a little higher than usual and her eyes forcibly wide. Her forehead is carefully clear of any wrinkles and she dips the brush into the little pad harder than she usually does. He tilts his head and tries to catch her eye.

“What’s up, Bebe.” It’s not a question. She shakes her hair back and blinks.

“Nothing, no worries. I was hoping you could make up the bathmat thing and come with me to the passport place today, that’s all. And I have a date thing with Heidi and her boyfriend and I was gonna ask you to come with after lunch, that’s all.” She smiles and shrugs and sucks her cheeks in, swiping the brush under her cheekbones. Kyle looks at her for a long moment, but she doesn’t have anything else to say. He watches her carefully avoid eye contact and pitches up, stalking out of the bathroom. He reaches the bed and roots around under the pillow for his phone, and he hears her sniffle. She’s nervous about getting her passport, she hates going to government buildings alone. He knows she feels useless there and from personal experience he knows they can be really condescending, something Bebe cannot stand. Kyle tugs his cell free from the charger and swipes his thumb over the keypad, unlocking it on his way back to the bathroom. He pushes the creaky door back open and Bebe turns to look at him. He smiles at her, big and sure, and hands her his phone, Stan’s contact already selected.

“Here, babe,” he kisses her cheek. She swats at him, but a smile is pulling at her lips. “Call Stan and tell him I can’t come. Do you want me to shave before we go?” Bebe steps back from the sink and takes the phone.

“Yeah, shave. Why am I calling Stan?” Kyle drops to the floor and tucks himself, on his knees, half under the sink.

“Because my mouth is otherwise occupied,” he says coyly, pulling the flaps of his towel over his head and burying his face between her thighs. Bebe gasps loudly, a hand flying down to grip his hair. Kyle grins into her pussy and lets the flats of his front teeth press carefully over the hood of her clit. Bebe’s legs widen substantially and Kyle takes full advantage of the extra space, moving further in between her knees and tipping his head back, slotting his mouth against her lips. Bebe grunts at the feeling of his stubble against her labia, pressing him deeper into her. Kyle lets the blade of his tongue run in fat circles just under her clit, swiping over the little peak relentlessly. Bebe moans his name and he grips her fat, fleshy thighs, probably bruising a little. He hears her put the brush in her hand down and her breathing start to quicken, so he delves deeper with his tongue, tasting her, letting her body show him how much she likes this. The hand tangled in his hair is tight and hard, pushing against his soft spot. He hears her try to regulate her breathing, and releases one of her thighs to nudge her feet a couple inches further apart.

“Kyle,” she yelps. “Quit it!” But her hand doesn’t release his hair and her knees bend just a little. He listens to her take one huge, deep breath and uses the free hand to dig around her now-slick lips, spreading them gently and licking along her inner labia.

“Stan?” Her voice is shrill. “Hey, yeah. It’s Bebe.” Kyle swirls his tongue around her clit and sucks, long and deep.  “H-he can’t come ton- ight!” Her voice pitches up an octave at the end, splintering into an almost shriek.

“Yeah yeah, everything is fine, Stan,” she almost growls a little when Kyle slides a finger deep into her, wriggling it around and pressing against the spongy centre of her g-spot. “Really. We had a date, mmh. That’s all.” Kyle is sure Stan thinks she’s angry with him now, with the way she’s snarling her words and clipping her sentences.

“Hah!” She cries out, and he hears the whine in the phone of Stan repeating whatever he said, mistaking her yelp of pleasure for a confused “huh.” Kyle slides a second finger into her hot, wet centre and her knees buckle, grinding down on his hand and face, hand releasing his hair and catching herself on the counter. Kyle’s tongue slips over her swollen clit and digs under the hood, tickling upwards. He knows this drives her crazy, and coupled with the slow, purposeful scissoring, he knows she can’t last long. He pulls off her as she answers Stan with a curt “I’ll tell him, goodbye.” She stumbles back a step and drops his phone into the sink. Kyle slides out from under the sink, eyes casting upwards to see her fat, round breasts pushed together in one meaty hand, the other readjusting the tuck of Kyle’s towel around her pudgy body. Ocean-crest eyes bore into his own, looking scandalized.

“Kyle!” she cries, but as he stands she bends at the waist, letting those gorgeous breasts pop over the counter and hang into the sink, presenting him with her dripping hole. Kyle grips his cock, hard and leaking already, and presses his chest to her back. Bebe’s head drops, thick, wild curls spilling over her thick neck and round shoulders into the sink, and Kyle slides into her, _slowly slowly slowly_ , kissing between her shoulder blades, a ship gliding from sandbar to sea in one, slow, agonizing movement. One of Bebe’s hands slips between her lips and rubs into her clit as Kyle pistons into her, biting into her shoulder. Bebe groans out his name and Kyle feels it tighten his balls; she is a siren calling for him to come- but whether that’s to her shore or into her cervix he can’t tell. Kyle’s eyes drift up as he realigns himself with her body, he stares into her face in the mirror as his thick cock scrapes over her g-spot.

Her eyes are shut tight and her mouth is gaping, he is literally fucking the air out of her and with every thrust her tits slap into the cold ceramic, Kyle can barely handle it and she is yelling his name, yelling for him to go faster, harder, and he grips her wide wide _wide_ hips and angles himself up and _fucks her_ , precome and cervical mucus and what was left of Kyle’s saliva dripping in ropes to the floor, she is on her toes and her thick little fingers are sliding over her clit relentlessly, she is _sobbing_ into the sink and he is coming, filling her tight little hole with hot hot _hot_ semen and _finally_ she is pulsing around him, walls spasming and body shaking, milking him for all he has. Kyle leans down, hands bracing on the cool counter beside her arms and licks her back, one thick swipe to signify she’s his. Kyle pulls out of her, watching strings of body fluids connecting them bead and fall, sticking to her fat, trembling thighs and his own cock.

Kyle snatches her towel off the floor and wipes at his crotch, dragging it over his skin hurriedly and then falling to a crouch. Bebe’s back is still arched, ass out and slick with him, her chin rests on her arms and she is grinning, satisfied. Kyle tucks his chin between her thighs and sucks, tongue swirling purposefully. He can taste himself, but more importantly, he can taste _her_ , and it’s an aphrodisiac he will never, ever be able to resist. Bebe moans and giggles as he licks her clean, her laugh illuminating his soul like a lighthouse over the cold Atlantic and when he’s finished, dabbing her dry and tossing the towel to the floor over the puddle of body fluids, she turns to kiss him. He holds her luscious, half-covered body close in his arms and drops his jaw, letting her petal-soft tongue explore his mouth, taste them both behind his molars, stroke along the roof.

When she is finished devouring him, he pulls from her lips and noses along her hairline, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and leaving kisses at her ears. The smile she wears is a long, lazy, satisfied grin; she was a hungry water nymph looking for a playmate and now she is full of him and she _loves_ it. She eyes him coyly and kisses his collarbones, Kyle has been called to shore and is in the arms of a siren here to devour his soul and sing him to sleep, her song is full of sorcery and it is the kind of magic that doesn’t have a name, laced into his emotions like a harmony to the melody of ocean waves beating ceaselessly against the shore.

Kyle leans into her back as she picks up her eyeliner and raises the tip to her lid. She smiles at him in the mirror, sun-kissed freckles scrunching around her eyes before her face turns to stone with concentration. Kyle’s hands are still, splayed out over her towel-covered stomach, just under her exposed breasts, balancing her as she outlines the tip of the wing. She pulls away and eyes it, satisfied with her work, and Kyle grins, dropping his head and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“What do you think?” she asks him, examining the sharp point with sharper eyes. He is not looking at her eyeliner when he responds honestly, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

Bebe doesn’t respond, she is working on the second wing, and Kyle feels himself fall into line with her breathing, his own inhales and exhales matched with hers. When the next album starts up on her phone, metallic and reedy against the marble and tile, he presses his cheek to her back and lets her vocal chords buzz, feeling himself drift away to the sound of her siren song.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks friend


End file.
